


toasted cheese > fancy burger

by Elizabeth13



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Depressed Simon Snow, Gordon Ramsay - Freeform, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth13/pseuds/Elizabeth13
Summary: Simon is depressed and watches Hell's Kitchen and misses having lunch with Baz until, unexpectedly, Baz comes to lunch!
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	toasted cheese > fancy burger

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first fic, so I hope you enjoy it!  
> comment and tell me what you liked or would like to see more of!  
> thank you for reading ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I haven’t properly left the couch in at least 3 days and things are really starting to deteriorate. I haven’t showered, I haven’t cleaned up any of my general mess – mess resulting solely from my exitance, how is it that you could do absolutely nothing productive and for the most part stay in the same place, and still accumulate mess? – I haven’t been contributing much of anything to the household or society, what I have been doing though is watching a lot of hells kitchen.

On the telly Gordon Ramsay is screaming at the restaurant owner because he found a dead rat in the walk-in freezer. I’ve never related to a dead animal more in my life. My wings are cramping from being pressed into the back of the couch for too long but if I move I know I’ll catch a whiff of how bad I smell, and I really don’t think I can handle to think about how disgusting I must be right now, even if, objectively, I am well aware. Penny and Baz are at their classes and wont be home till later today, Baz has an hour break between classes at 1 most days, and he used to come back to the flat to eat lunch with me, but he stopped doing that a while ago, I guess around the same time I stopped getting off the couch to actually eat with him. It’s better this way though, when there’s no one here to witness how disgusting I’ve become, it feels like I can breathe easier. And I’m not even being self-deprecating when I say I’m disgusting; I haven’t showered in awhile ok? Gordon Ramsay is showing the chef and kitchen staff how to cook the new menu he’s setting for them, right now he’s making a wicked fancy looking burger. When Baz used to come back for lunch, he would always bring me food he had bought, he never cooked, or at least not that I knew of, I suppose I don’t really know very much at all about what he gets up to now. Would he cook me a fancy burger if I asked? He probably enjoys his lunches out more anyway, I’m pretty sure he gets sushi and eats on campus now instead. It’s more convenient for him this way, not having to come all the way back to the flat just to eat with me and then travel all the way back for the rest of his afternoon classes. So yeah, it’s better this way. True to form all the customers love Gordon Ramsay’s new menu, and the fancy burger is, as expected, a hit. Would you ever expect less of Gordon Ramsay? I wish I was a restaurant so Gordon Ramsay could come in and tell me everything I was doing wrong and then give me a completely new menu to serve people, then I could be a functioning person again, er restaurant I mean.

My stomach has been having trouble adjusting to the fact that there’s no one bringing me lunch anymore. It’s 12:56 and I’m hungry, I have a couple crisp packets left in the cupboard, but the thought of eating another packet of crisps is physically painful and I don’t have to motivation to make anything. Watching all the people at the restaurant eat the fancy food is giving me hunger cramps. I close my eyes and roll away from the telly and into the couch, my wings spring free, knocking over a half-finished bottle of cider I left on the ground, which I also left open, of fucking course.

“Fuck!” It tips and spills all over the carpet.

“Fuuuuck,” I’m scrambling to get up, to not knock over anything else with these stupid fucking useless wings. Its bloody bad enough that I’m living here rent free, practically mooching off Penny, but I absolutory can’t also be the reason she doesn’t get the tenancy deposit back. I’m panicking, trying to find a tea towel or something, literally anything, to soak up the spilled cider when I realise that we don’t have any fucking tea towels because Penny always uses magic to dry the dishes, and it’s not like I’ve been washing any dishes recently to need any, I hadn’t even noticed that we don’t have any. What? between laying on the couch and getting myself blisteringly drunk on cider to cry in my room, my schedule has been pretty packed. I’ve just decided to use one of my dirty shirts (which is all of them honestly, the idea that you wear a shirt and it becomes dirty and then you have to wash it and then wear it only for it to become dirty again and again until you die is too depressing to think about, so yeah, I stopped doing washing a while ago) to clean up the mess, when the front door opens and I hear Baz call out before he closes the door behind him.

“Snow!”

Why is he here? Baz hasn’t come home for lunch in nearly 2 weeks, and now all of a sudden here he is, completely unexpected and standing in the middle of the kitchen archway holding two trays of sushi and a bag of something else that looks deliciously greasy. He can’t be here, I’m a mess right now, I fucking stink and all I can think about is the cider soaking into the carpet in the other room.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, looking over his shoulder into the lounge room, I bet the carpet will still stink like cider now, even if I manage to get it all out, fuck.

“I thought we could eat together,” he trails off looking over his shoulder, “What’s wrong? what are you looking at?” He says uncertainly.

This is too much for me right now. “We don’t have any tea towels,” I say as I push past him to get to a shirt that I’ve left on the couch and throw it over the puddle of cider that has now sunk into the carpet.

“I see, right, well, I brought sushi and a toasted cheese from that café you like,” he says very businesslike, as he lays the food out on the kitchen table. He’s tense and he’s placing everything on the table in such a precise manner that I know he’s nervous, I know this is him trying to be vulnerable and extend an olive branch to me, but I just feel so far away from him, and I don’t know if I can reach, or if his olive branch would even support me? One whiff of me and surely he’d be out the door, I don’t want him to look up from organising the cutlery because then he’ll see me and I was really not expecting him to see me today.

“Er, sure, I mean yeah, we can eat, just er, wait a minute.” I quickly walk back to my room, I need to do something to get myself together, I need to at least put some fucking deodorant on. I emerge a minute later hopefully smelling at least a bit better. As I’m coming out of my room, I notice him looking under the shirt I had thrown on top of the cider-soaked carpet. He makes a face at it and takes out his wand, spelling it clean. I wait till he’s sat back down at the table before I come out, he always gets awkward doing magic around me, and I just desperately don’t want things to be awkward right now.

“Er thanks,” I say sitting down at the table with him. He makes a sound of acknowledgement and pulls out a pen and a stack of papers to go through while he eats. The sight of it makes my stomach twist into itself. This used to be our usual routine, before I became too heavy to move off the couch to eat with him, before he stopped coming completely. We would sit at the table together and eat, he would go through his Uni readings or essays or whatever work he had to do, and he wouldn’t even cover his mouth when he ate. Sometimes he would look up and smile at me, he would look kinda goofy with his fangs out and I would smile back and take his hand, he would squeeze it and then let go to keep working on his papers, or sometimes we’d stay like that, holding hands until he had to leave. So yeah this is our usual routine, except now he looks so tense and I can see the worry around his eyes and all I want to do I tell him I’m sorry, that I wish he didn’t have to deal with me like this.

“Er well, I’m starving, so, couldn’t’ve been better timing,” I say instead and shove the toasted cheese into my mouth because I really am starving. It’s so fucking delicious I wanna cry a bit, I also wanna cry a bit because Baz was the one who brought it for me. It’s definitely way better than any fancy burger. Baz looks up at me as I’m shoving the rest of the toastie into my mouth, and he gives me a small hopeful smile before he looks back down at his work. He still seems tense though, so I finish chewing my food and bump my foot against his and when he looks up at me, I smile back at him.


End file.
